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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619396">Hands that hold, that embrace</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_psychso/pseuds/commissions'>commissions (so_psychso)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mechanisms (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(a bit), Dom/sub, Double Penetration, Enthusiastic Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Subspace, Threesome - M/M/M, Trans Male Character, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:16:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24619396</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_psychso/pseuds/commissions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When it comes to subduing Jonny, Tim and Brian know exactly what he needs.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Drumbot Brian/Jonny d'Ville/Gunpowder Tim</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>142</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Hands that hold, that embrace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pippin/gifts">Pippin</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is a commission.</p><p>If you want to request something, please feel free to shoot a message over to my <a href="https://master-fiber.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Beautiful</em>, they keep saying—all stroking, petting, prying hands and smiles, their gazes heavily steeped in want and adoration. <em> Beautiful</em>. Him in their midsts, thrashing pliantly, spitting and cursing like he hasn’t willingly backed himself to the wall, let them lead him here, let them close in. Begged them. Hands and smiles and <em> beautiful</em>… </p><p> </p><p><em> Gorgeous</em>, slips in here and there, usually only once they’ve got his clothes out the way, but Brian does often surprise them with his eloquence, and he’s murmuring this into Jonny’s throat before a single belt between them has been removed. Jonny starts to snark something in turn, but moving his head to aid Brian’s searching teeth enables Tim access to his mouth, and the curses get drowned in a mess of tongues and accolades. <em> Gorgeous.</em></p><p> </p><p><em> Pretty little thing</em>, now this catches him somewhat off guard, but the cock filling the space between his lips stifles any objections thereof, and with each syllable dripping in silk and tenor from Tim, Jonny really can’t find it in him to take issue.</p><p> </p><p>So he accepts their praises, even if he can’t quite believe them, because the rewards he reaps are well worth the humiliation of an ill-fitting adjective. Or several. Because they don’t stop coming, and when it gets to the point where they stop telling him directly, instead opining to each other as they take what they want from Jonny’s body, it’s all he can do to weather the barrage.</p><p> </p><p>He’s on his knees, besides, hands at the small of his back, kept there by the tangle of his own shirt roughly divested by Brian. It’s nice here, like this. Supplicated for Tim, and trying not to drool too eagerly as the latter slowly undoes his belt.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at him,” Tim breathes, once Jonny’s throat is fully sheathed around his cock. “Makes you wonder how he never chokes.”</p><p> </p><p>“As if you don’t give him enough practice,” Brian replies, situated not too far off from Jonny’s periphery.</p><p> </p><p>“Never so lovely as when you’re sucking cock, Jonny,” Tim addresses him directly, giving a faint little thrust of the hips, and Jonny swallows around him, desperate for a breath, but even more eager to be the picturesque thing Tim so covets. </p><p> </p><p>Outside of these scenes, that thought would appall him, but the cottony warmth of his resolve subsiding to compliance permits him to indulge such saccharine inanities. </p><p> </p><p>It feels really fucking nice, is the long and short, and even nicer is the weight in his mouth, the slick, velvety slide of thin skin over rigid flesh all rhythmic and <em> almost </em> too much. But Tim knows his limits, almost better than Jonny does himself, so he knows the pace to set, when he needs to pull back, when it’s fine to thrust back in, all smooth and welcome and good.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>N’g</em>, he’s—he’s really something tonight,” Tim stutters, and when he pulls back to give Jonny his third inhale, the mate turns his attention to tend the head of Tim’s cock, his lips forming a tight ring around the flare, his tongue circling and sucking, hollowing out his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Look at you,” Brian echoes, still relegated to periphery as Jonny holds Tim’s gaze, intent on devouring his every expression.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s really something,” Tim exhales, eyelids fluttering as Brian brushes the hair from his shoulder so he can nuzzle the hinge of Tim’s jaw.</p><p> </p><p>Jonny just watches, mouth still working studiously, though he knows it’s not merely his tongue’s prowess that earns the sweet little sigh from Tim. </p><p> </p><p>“In case you’ve f-forgotten,” the man grits out, turning to Brian who pulls back from his efforts with a grin, “tonight isn’t about me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh let him enjoy the show,” Brian says, “you’re just as pretty, in case <em> you’ve </em> forgotten.”</p><p> </p><p>And though Jonny enjoys being tied up and forcibly made a voyeur to Tim’s ecstasies, that really isn’t the point of this. Call him selfish, but he was very forthright about how he wanted the evening to transpire, so he adds a bit of teeth as he lavishes his mouth down the swollen length of Tim’s <em> pretty </em> cock, and savors the muttered curse as much as he intends to enjoy the rest of what they’ve in store for him.</p><p> </p><p>“Cheeky little prick,” Tim derides fondly, and no sooner has Jonny celebrated his small victory than does Tim grasp firmly a fistful of his hair, yanking him back.</p><p> </p><p>A swift slap follows suit, perfunctory and stinging, and Jonny cries out, his pulse cascading between his legs.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you going to behave?” Tim asks, tone as cold as his eyes are not, and Jonny nods inasmuch as Tim’s grip allows. </p><p> </p><p>“Mm, are you sure?” Brian adds.</p><p> </p><p>He nestles his chin on Tim’s shoulder, at the same time his left hand snakes around Tim’s hip and takes lax hold of his cock, stroking it almost absentmindedly.</p><p> </p><p>“Brian, I swear to—” but Tim’s cut off, Jonny surging forward as Brian’s hand strokes down, and whatever complaints he had prepared get lost in a throaty groan.</p><p> </p><p>“You two are th-the worst,” he gets out, as Brian and Jonny continue working his cock in countermeasure. </p><p> </p><p>For his part, Brian just looks down at Jonny, gives a sly wink, and then, letting go of Tim, wrenches his head around and swallows his surprised gasp in a deep, messy kiss.</p><p> </p><p>“Just wanted you for a moment is all,” Brian smiles against Tim’s lips, and Jonny rolls his eyes, letting Tim’s cock slip from his tongue. No point in wasting effort if they’re not going to pay any attention.</p><p> </p><p>“What about me, then,” he inquires gruffly, when it looks like Tim’s going to go in for another round of insufferable kissing. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, both men turn to look at him, and Tim’s demeanor shifts <em> just </em> into place, a shadow of that delicious cruelty Jonny so craves leering from behind his teeth as he smiles.</p><p> </p><p>“What <em> about </em> you, love?” he asks coolly, taking hold of his cock and dragging the head over Jonny’s tightly pursed lips.</p><p> </p><p>“I think he needs some proper attention,” Brian muses, finally detaching himself from Tim’s side and looming over Jonny.</p><p> </p><p>He spares an excruciating moment to stare warmly down at the mate, stroking the cold metal of his knuckles over his temple, down his cheek, before abruptly crouching, sitting back on his heels.</p><p> </p><p>“Just look at you,” a honeyed scrap of praise offered over as Brian’s hand travels ever lower.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t stop, not at Jonny’s throat, his collar, his sternum, and certainly not the band of his trousers. Quick work is made of those various obstacles, and then Jonny’s hissing in a harsh, quick breath, the calculated descent of Brian’s fingers finding their quarry, and none too gently splaying against his soaked cunt, all at once so much pressure and friction, yet none of it singular enough to bring him sufficient relief.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think, Tim,” Brian asks, not for a second letting Jonny’s gaze falter from his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Think you can keep him busy while I get ready?”</p><p> </p><p>This, in tandem with Brian working his cock, makes Jonny shudder bodily, eyes fluttering closed, and he only re-opens them when that terrible, not-enough contact retreats, leaving him bereft and aching.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” comes Tims reply, and with a deft series of hoisting, shoving, straddling, and groping, has Jonny spread out on the bed, trousers flung somewhere in a far corner, thighs being pried apart by a diligent, barely there grip.</p><p> </p><p>Because it’s not like Jonny’s resisting. Not like he’s <em> this </em> close to begging for Tim’s mouth if it isn’t on him in the next, oh, six and a half seconds. </p><p> </p><p>Tim, to his credit, lasts three, sparing an extra to drag two fingers over Jonny’s cunt before replacing them with his tongue, his head bowed like a portrait of penance between Jonny’s legs. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuuucking hell, </em>” Jonny growls, wishing desperately he had the use of his hands (crushed and cramped behind his back) so he could grab at Tim’s hair. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mmmmhm, </em>” Tim hums, the vibrations tickling through to Jonny’s core, and he throws his head back, a heaving gasp punching clean of his lungs as Tim presses his tongue flat before tapering off to flick mercilessly at his cock. </p><p> </p><p>“T-Tim, I—<em>ghnn</em>—ple- <em> ease </em> n-need—”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be stingy, Tim,” Brian interjects, sparing Jonny the indignity of his own baleful desperation.</p><p> </p><p>He watches the Drumbot stride back over to the bed, trousers gone, as well, his chosen cock for the evening on proud and intimidating display. Jonny’s given only a glance to admire it, though, because Tim’s wicked fingers are back in tandem with his tongue, and he sinks three into Jonny’s cunt, curling them with practiced familiarity.</p><p> </p><p>“There we are,” he hears Brian chide softly, but even the chilled hand that resumes its fond perusal of his jaw and lips isn’t quite able to ground him, and he basks in his own scorching heat, suspended by Tim’s tongue and Brian’s careful touches.</p><p> </p><p>After an age of plateauing torment, the sensations change, Tim’s tongue and fingers retreating, and the heat pooling in Jonny’s belly simmers impatiently as he struggles to come back to himself. But he knows. What’s next. What’s expected of him. What he wants so <em> fucking </em> badly.</p><p> </p><p>“-in my lap,” he hears, the conversation between Tim and Brian broken and strange, his focus trained solely on the stunted pleasure turning his blood to acid and sticky sweet sugar.</p><p> </p><p>But that’s okay, there are others to do the work for him. Hands to corral and reposition him, teeth to make him so very <em> pretty </em> with bruises and blood. Lips for soothing these imagined offenses. Skin and flesh and slick and soft and hard and <em> good good good </em> as his thighs tremble with the effort to stay upright, as more hands take and guide his hips, assisting the effort to hover over the thick, ribbed cock beneath him. </p><p> </p><p>Brian, then. Yes, Brian, in front of him, holding his shoulders because they haven’t given him back to himself, yet. Because he doesn’t <em> want </em> himself. Just them. And what they want. And what they will give him. Want and give and take. All of it. All of him. All for them.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you alright?” Brian says from a thousand miles away, though he’s still so close enough for Jonny to kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Which he does—clumsy and content and crying out softly as Brian’s cock breaches him, sliding smoothly into his needy cunt, Jonny kisses him, shivering at every point of their contact and still so terribly unsatisfied.</p><p> </p><p>“Christ…” comes a reverent exhale from Tim, and Jonny can almost feel the greedy weight of his eyes drinking in his debauchery. “Bit tight tonight, are we?”</p><p> </p><p>“How <em>ever </em> am I going to fit, Jonny,” he continues, moving in so his mouth brushes Jonny’s ear, and the mate cries out as fingers trace the swollen stretch of his cunt around Brian’s cock.</p><p> </p><p>“He can take it,” Brian offers, not in the least put out of breath, and Jonny can only bury his face in his frigid shoulder, whining pathetically.</p><p> </p><p>“S’at right, Jonny?” Tim asks. “Think you can have us both?”</p><p> </p><p>Jonny doesn’t reply, teeth latched furiously to his lower lip as he clenches around Brian, still barely moving, still impossibly full. Still, not, <em> enough</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“Or I can just take your arse,” comes Tim’s voice, dangerously low and grating at the nape of Jonny’s neck, “if it’s too much.”</p><p> </p><p>“N-no,” the mate manages weakly. “Want… both, want you both.”</p><p> </p><p>He does. <em> God</em>, he does. Wants his limits pushed, his cunt thoroughly used. Wants to feel the burn and ache for the next <em> week, </em> dammit.</p><p> </p><p>“Relax,” Tim is saying, a needless sentiment, really, but Jonny supposes he can’t hate the man for being considerate.</p><p> </p><p>He can, however, begrudge him for not getting a damn move on, but like hell he’s going to beg. The best he can do is wait and whimper and grind down slowly on Brian’s cock as Tim paws at him, saying more nonsense things, stroking him, pinching. He lands a few smacks to Jonny’s arse with no real rhyme or reason, but it does get Jonny arching and moaning, and Brian seems to appreciate that, nuzzling up under his jaw and sucking a mean hickey there.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, <em> finally</em>, Tim seems to deem him ready. And Christ is he ever, so wet the metal of Brian’s thighs fairly gleams, and the sounds his cunt now makes as he shudders up and down are well beyond obscene.</p><p> </p><p>“Easy now,” Tim says, stilling Jonny’s desperate motions with one hand on his hip, the other guiding his cock into place. “Just take it slowly, love, there we are.”</p><p> </p><p>As much as he’d like to snark something back, the man is right, and Jonny can only tremble and gasp as Tim joins Brian, stretching him to what feels like an absurd breaking point, but the vicious pleasure that spikes in his gut usurps any doubts—any limitations Jonny might have feared himself hindered by.</p><p> </p><p>“Fucking…. <em> hell</em>, Jonny,” Tim groans, and crowds close against the man, buried about halfway in, and even that feels like too much.</p><p> </p><p>But he keeps going, inch by agonizing inch, until Jonny can’t move. He just can’t. Every nerve is scrubbed raw by all this <em> everything </em> : fullness, sting and stretch, bone deep sugary sweet <em> good so good </em> , and then Brian pistons <em> up </em>, and Jonny’s vision whites out for several disbelieving seconds. </p><p> </p><p><em> Again </em>, he thinks, only to return to himself and find this must have been spoken aloud, because Brian is obeying, and Tim is following in kind, the both of them seeking a rhythm of opposites so that Jonny is never empty of either and always filled to the brink at perfect intervals.</p><p> </p><p>“Is that good for you, love?” Tim asks, breathless in the crook of Jonny’s neck.</p><p> </p><p><em> No fucking shit</em>, Jonny wants to say, but the words get mixed up halfway out, and all he manages is a meek little keen, his peak winding tighter, coming closer, impossible and absolutely unreachable until Brian has those wicked fingers sneaking down, flanking Jonny’s cock with unerring precision. </p><p> </p><p>A few cursory strokes is all it takes to drag him into the abyss of his own pleasure, every muscle tightening, every curse flowing from his throat, every inch of him suffused in blistering, sweet heat cauterizing every other sensation. </p><p> </p><p>He barely even feels Tim come, the faint rush of warmth inside him negligible despite how Jonny covets being used in such a manner. Just as well, his body proves equally useless in letting him dismount from Brian’s lap, but he has two strong partners to take care of that for him, and he’s on his back again in short order, arms freed from the bindings of his shirt, and a gentle flurry of hands and lips tending to him like they aren’t the perpetrators of his every, debilitating orgasm.</p><p> </p><p>“How was that, then?” Brian asks, hand soothing lazily over Jonny’s chest as Tim applies delicate kisses to his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Given you enough tonight, haven’t I?” Jonny sighs. “Need me to stroke your ego, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Among other things,” Brian teases back, and Jonny groans.</p><p> </p><p>And then groans, again, as Tim works his way up to his ear, nipping gently, his breath soft and ticklish.</p><p> </p><p>And as the men descend onto him, fully, bringing him down, piece by piece, from his high, there is such a deep contentment to be found that, just this once, Jonny can forgive himself the stupid, hapless smile that breaks across his mouth. </p>
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